


One Door Closes

by travels_in_time



Category: Doctor Who 2005, Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-10
Updated: 2010-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-12 14:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/travels_in_time/pseuds/travels_in_time
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything changes. Well, almost everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Door Closes

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2007, so this Eleventh Doctor is completely made up by me.

Jack walked down the darkened hall slowly, doing one last visual inspection out of habit, although he knew everything was gone. The files and artefacts had been moved to their new homes weeks before. The furniture had been given away or destroyed. Only scraps of paper scattered on the floor and tacked to old bulletin boards remained, relics of a species that couldn't quite let go of the habit of wanting physical contact with their information. As much as technology had advanced, there was still no such thing as a "paperless" office. And as many places as Jack had worked as an agent of Torchwood, relocating each time they moved to bigger and better quarters, he'd never become accustomed to the utter stillness of an abandoned place.

It was darker than he expected as he exited the building. The streetlights were coming on, casting shadows in all directions and giving the building a starker look than it had in the warmth of daylight. He looked up at the structure. The power had been turned off; it was dark, lifeless. It was hard to remember that this emptiness represented a fresh start, a new beginning for the whole of humanity.

He used his thumbprint to open the control box beside the front doors and keyed in the code that would seal the building. There had been some talk of turning it into a museum, but ultimately the government was more interested in the future than in the past. The space was needed, and tomorrow the demolition team would be busily eradicating any evidence that Torchwood's headquarters had ever stood on that site, preparing the way for the next mega-corporation complex.

He swept a last look along the street, and paused as one of the shadows detached itself from the wall and moved towards him. There'd been news crews for weeks, and curious tourists, sightseers, people who wanted photos and souvenirs, but they didn't generally show up after dark. He waited, hands in his pockets, feeling the reassuring bulge of the handgun in its holster underneath his coat.

The man was also looking up at the darkened building. "Last one out turns the lights off, eh?"

Jack nodded, looking the man over carefully. Tall, dark-haired, early-to-mid-forties, dress shirt and slacks. He didn't look like a threat, but Jack had learned long ago not to trust appearances, and he didn't relax his vigilance. "Anything I can help you with?"

The man glanced at him and grinned, a sparkling expression that appeared and disappeared in an instant. "Just looking, thanks. This is it, right? No more Torchwood? It all goes global after this?"

"No more Torchwood as champion of the British empire," Jack agreed. "Haven't had a British empire for a long time anyway. Humans have finally realized that banding together to defend the Earth from aliens might be more productive than fighting each other over individual patches of ground."

"Be nice if the humans and the aliens could come to some sort of similar arrangement."

Jack snorted. "Somehow I don't think that's going to happen during my lifetime."

The man smiled again, a much wider smile than the remark warranted. "Probably not. Nor mine either." He glanced at the building again. "So, what about you? Going to work at the global headquarters?"

Jack shrugged. "I have an offer there. I don't know, I might take some time off. I've been working at Torchwood for a long time. Maybe I should do something different for a while."

"Something different," the man mused. "Exciting? Dangerous? Adventure and travel and lots of snogging?"

Jack laughed. "Sounds like you know me." He stopped suddenly, narrowing his eyes at the man. "Do you?"

That grin flashed across the man's face again, and Jack wondered why he hadn't realized before, hadn't connected the old expression to this new body. "Couldn't forget my favourite captain."

He felt the grin mirrored on his own face as the adrenaline kicked in. His long experience as the Doctor's completely unofficial liaison with Earth had taught him what to expect next. Shortly there'd be explosions and running and noise and general confusion, and eventually, if they were very lucky, the situation would be resolved with no one having to die. Permanently, at least. And then the Doctor would disappear and Jack would be left with the cleanup and the memory of having felt, for just a little while, alive again. But in this moment before the chaos started, there was only joy at seeing the Doctor again.

The timing could have been better, though. Jack indicated the abandoned building. "Didn't you see the sign? We're closed for business. If you're going to need heavy firepower, you'll have to check in at the main HQ. What is it this time? The Krethians getting too big for their britches again? The Temarians wanting to set up one of their franchises on Earth? Mind you, I always enjoyed visiting those, the dancing girls were absolutely--"

"This isn't a business call," the Doctor cut in, raising his eyebrows, probably at the hand motions Jack was using to illustrate his point. "Although now that you mention it, the N'carthans will probably be in contact with Earth in a few weeks, and somebody should be advised not to sign any contracts with them whatsoever, at least not until an experienced arbitrator can be found...but we'll deal with that later."

"We?" Jack's own eyebrows rose.

"Well. Me and the TARDIS, I suppose." Now the Doctor looked uncomfortable. It was odd, Jack thought, reading the familiar signs on an unfamiliar body.

Anything that made the Doctor nervous was probably something that needed to be dealt with, and quickly. He folded his arms and stared at the Time Lord. "Doctor. It's been a while since you last dropped in, and not that I'm not happy to see you, but usually it's an international emergency when you turn up. If you don't need my help, then why are you here?"

"Social call?"

He laughed, but it wasn't from amusement. "Not you. You don't do social. You need something. What is it?"

The Doctor didn't answer, avoiding Jack's eyes.

Jack sighed. Some things never changed. Other things, though..."You've regenerated again." He surveyed the Time Lord critically. "You look like a CEO on a casual Friday."

The Doctor shrugged. "Can't seem to help it. Could be worse. Has been, before." He looked Jack over in turn, and that grin broke out again. "You haven't changed, though."

Jack's eyebrows lowered. "You weren't always so happy about that." He was surprised at the bitterness in his own voice. He'd dismissed that a long time ago, and they'd never mentioned it again—that was another thing that didn't change about the Doctor—but for some reason now the old pain surged up fresh, with the reminder clearly in front of him that change, and death, were everywhere in the Universe. Everywhere except in his own personal corner of it.

"Jack, I'm--"

He cut the Doctor off with a sharp gesture. "It doesn't matter. Guess I'm just on edge about things changing here." He waved at the building again, then turned away. "I've been doing this for a long time, and now I have some decisions to make. It's got me a little tense." The Doctor fell into step beside him as he walked slowly down the street. "So, what about you? You on your own for now?"

The Doctor was silent for a moment. Jack was surprised to find that he could identify that particular quality of silence, still remember what it felt like after all this time. Pain, and darkness, and loneliness. It was a lot more familiar now, somehow, than it had been when he'd first known the Doctor, when he'd first felt it radiating off him whenever he or Rose asked the wrong question.

"There were two of them," the Doctor said after a moment. "Brother and sister, travelling with me. Aaron was killed. Marissa couldn't—she didn't want to go on, not when I changed too. I took her home."

"I'm sorry," Jack said quietly.

The Doctor shook his head. "It happens." He stopped, looking up.

Jack stopped too, following his gaze, seeing the blue box a few feet away. The familiar sight brought a smile to his face, even as the longing that was never far away brought a lump to his throat.

The Doctor was smiling too, watching him. "That hasn't changed."

Jack deliberately chose to misunderstand the comment, unwilling to discuss it. "I guess she never will." He blinked and cleared his throat, looking around at the Doctor again. "So, you gonna leave without telling me what you came for?"

"You're not making this very easy." The Doctor frowned at him. Then he raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture, as Jack stared incredulously at him. "All right, all right. I came to find you. I came to see if...if you might want..." he trailed off, indicating the TARDIS with a tilt of his head and a hopeful look.

This was it, this was what Jack had given up hoping for a long time ago, but something wasn't right. "I don't know how long it's been for you, but I've been back on Earth for about three hundred years this time. Working for Torchwood, working with you whenever you decide to show up. Why now?"

"Seemed like a good time." The Doctor shrugged. "Big change on the Torchwood front. They could use you, sure, but they don't _need_ you at the moment. Thought you might be at a loose end, want to go somewhere different." He paused. "You know, I have asked before."

Jack shook his head. "You never meant it."

"Why would I ask if I didn't mean it?" The Doctor's voice was guarded.

"I don't know. Maybe you thought you owed me something? But I know you, Doctor." Jack was watching him carefully, measuring his words. "When you asked before, it was easy. This time, it's too hard. You can't even say it. This time, you mean it. So what I need to know is, why?"

The Doctor met his eyes for just a moment, and he recognized that expression, too--trapped, silent, not able or not willing to explain.

Jack tilted his head to one side, considering. "Maybe because you just lost a couple of friends. You need someone who can't die on you, someone you won't have to worry about losing, is that it?"

He'd never seen that particular expression before, not on this face, but it was impossible to miss, and although he instantly regretted his words, some deep part of him was savagely glad that he'd managed to hurt the Doctor somehow.

"Is that what you think?" The dark eyes were bleak and bitter. "You forget. I was on the _Valiant_ with you, for a year."

Jack blinked at him, not comprehending. The _Valiant_ was another subject that they didn't talk about, ever. The Doctor had never shown any inclination to discuss the death of the only other Time Lord in existence, someone who had meant so much to him, although exactly what, Jack had never figured out.

"You can die, Jack. You can die over and over and over. Every time the Master nearly lost what little sanity he had left, nearly killed me right then, I'd hear you. Breaking loose, causing trouble, propositioning the guards, sabotaging the station. He'd go to find out what the fuss was about. And he'd come back, hours later, calm. Happy. Blood all over his clothes, his hands. I knew. Every time, I knew what you were doing. What he was doing to you."

"Stop." His heartbeat was pounding in his ears; the Doctor's words seemed to be coming from very far away. Memories surged up, memories that he'd tried long ago to bury, to lose. Memories of events that had technically never happened. He turned away, tried to slow his breathing, willing the world to come back into focus.

The Doctor's voice followed him, over his shoulder. "That's why I never meant it when I asked you to travel with me. I couldn't take the chance that you'd do that again. I couldn't--" he stopped abruptly, and Jack waited, staring unseeingly at the pavement, hearing the Doctor's quiet sigh. "You're never going to stop jumping into trouble. I'd lose you, over and over."

Jack took one more deep breath and turned back, chin up, to face him. "I make my own decisions about jumping into trouble. I do it here, the same as anywhere else."

"I don't doubt it. But that's on your own terms. Not because somebody's decided to use you for his own personal sadistic amusement park. And not because--not because I asked you to."

Jack was still watching him warily. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He met Jack's gaze steadily, and Jack had to fight to keep from looking away, anywhere but at those unfamiliar eyes that somehow knew him better than anyone else. "You do whatever I ask you to, Jack. Regardless of the cost to yourself. I keep asking you to die, and you keep doing it, and that can't be good for either of us."

Jack felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach, losing his breath again. There was nothing he could say to that, because he would do whatever the Doctor asked, wouldn't he? He always had, and they both knew it. _Never doubted him, never will._

The Doctor watched him, sympathy in his eyes, but didn't make any movement towards him, to Jack's relief. He kept his chin up, fighting to maintain his composure. "So what's changed now?"

The Doctor paced a little, back and forth in front of the TARDIS. "Regeneration got me thinking. Last time I was a bit...self-important."

"You think?" Jack found himself suddenly, unbelievably, smiling.

The Doctor wasn't, though. "Bit too ready to deal out death and judgment without stopping to think things through." He glanced up, catching Jack's eyes again. "Bit too ready to send people out to die." He shook his head. "A lot of people died needlessly because I wasn't focussed. Or I was focussed on the wrong things. A friend told me, a long time ago, that I needed someone to stop me. Been thinking lately that maybe she was right."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Don't look at me. You just got through saying that I'm your yes-man."

Now the Doctor was grinning at him. "But you're also the man who's never been afraid to tell me what you think. If I go too far...if I start trying to make life or death decisions for entire species, or even individual people...you'll stop me."

"Won't do any good. You don't listen to anyone else anyway."

"I'll listen to you," the Doctor said intently. "I owe you."

Jack glared at him. "You're crazy if you think I'm going anywhere with you because you think you owe me for anything. You didn't make me this way, and I'm sure as hell not dealing with your guilt complex for the next hundred years."

"I didn't mean that." The Doctor ran his hand through his hair, and Jack had a sudden memory of a younger face, messier hair, wide eyes that held the memories of a thousand years. He shook it off as the Doctor continued. "I just meant...you've earned the right to tell me off. I can promise to listen to you. But you have to promise, too. Don't do stupid stuff just because I tell you to."

Jack nodded. "I won't do stupid stuff, and you won't interfere in other people's affairs. Yeah, I can see how this is going to work out well."

Their eyes met again, and this time they were both laughing.

Finally the Doctor reached for his key. "I need you, Jack. But I can't ask you."

Jack reached for the Doctor's hand and pulled it down, bringing out his own key ring with its multitude of keys. "You don't have to ask." The ring blurred in his vision, and he blinked furiously until he could see clearly again, selecting the long-unused key unerringly and unlocking the door with a flourish.

The Doctor was grinning widely again. "Fantastic." He pushed the door open and strode in, waving expansively at the interior. "Come on in, make yourself at home."

 _Home_. The word echoed in Jack's head, made out of golden light and music, as he followed the Doctor inside and closed the door. He glanced up, startled. The Doctor had always said the TARDIS was somewhat telepathic, and he'd always felt a certain connection to it, but it had never "spoken" to him before. He patted the door, smiling a little in surprise. "Home. Yeah."

The Doctor was already darting around the console flipping controls. "So, where do you want to go? There are governments out there to overthrow, corridors to run through, prisons to break out of, aliens to snog. Come on, Jack! We've got work to do!"


End file.
